No, We're Just Acquiantances
by Ms. AtomicBomb
Summary: Madeline Williams lands her arse in London after a much needed promotion to the Scotland Yard and in an attempt to escape from something... or someone. After being assigned a case with none other than Sherlock Holmes, her life becomes a bit more complicated as he tries to pry into it. Fem!Canada and Sherlock Holmes. Human AU. Rated T nor no real reason.Maybe future talk of crime
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer!**

**I do NOT own Hetalia nor BBC-Sherlock. Both the Characters and the shows Belong to their rightful owners. I simply own the plot of the story.**

**I hope you enjoy~**

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Getting on a plane to a foreign country in order to avoid certain people is not easy. That was how Madeline Williams landed her arse in '_The Bloody United Kingdom'_. As much as she loved Canada; there was no way she would set foot in her house ever again. Nope not after what had just happened in order to make her come to this bipolar country- not that Canada wasn't either.

Rumours had also erupted that there was a very good- if not perfect- detective around. Many people spoke of him, this meant he had to be quite interesting. Of course Madeline wasn't looking for help but she was well known for her detective work back in Canada as well. She loved investigations, they were exciting and fun. It felt like an adrenaline rush.

Weeks after her arrival she began her work in Scotland Yard, on her first day in such facility, she already had a case. How lucky was she? Yet she deserved it. She always worked so hard for it- that was why she was sent here, it was her promotion.

"Well, Officer Williams, I am aware that you were in deed very famous for your detective work back in Canada. In a result I have decided that you at least deserve your first case." Lestrade smiled at the strawberry haired lady. She grew a thankful grin. "Thank you. Thank you so much." She smiled. Oh boy was she happy; finally something great after she left Canada.

"Oh but you will have to share the case with someone." Lestrade remembered. "Hmm? With who, sir?" Madeline looked up. "Since this is a case we have had much trouble with...You will have to share it with Britain's very own Detective Consulter." He stated. "And he's quite a jerk too...Sherlock Holmes."

Madeline's head shot towards the commander. "_The_ Sherlock Holmes? As in Sherlock Holmes? Like Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes?" She assured with amazement.

"You summoned?" Sherlock- himself- entered the room. "Speak of the devil. Mr. Holmes, this is the new smart Canadian agent- Ms. Williams." Lestrade spoke. "H-Hello Mr. Holmes, Nice to finally meet you." Madeline whispered. "Yes, it is all so amusing." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"So, you finally called me. What took you so long, Lestrade? Okay, I need a-"

"Sherlock, Williams is going to assist you on this case." Lestrade interrupted.

"You know I do not need an assistant. May I remind you I already have John?"

"But is he not away?"

"He'll come back."

"He's on vacation for another month."

"Oh Lestrade, I can do things myself."

"So can Miss Williams."

"Fine, I'll work with her."

Sherlock turned to the beautiful shy lady. She tried to hide behind her Buddy Holly glasses though it didn't work. She could feel her tight black pencil skirt begin to creep up her legs and in a failed attempt to pull it down she dropped the papers. Documents invaded the granite floor.

"I-I'm so sorry." Madeline announced as she dropped to her knees to pick them up. "Clumsy and insecure. So what may you be running from?" Sherlock decided to help the young woman. "P-pardon me?" Her voice wavered.

"Your insecurity made you drop the papers; judging by the horribly failed attempt to pull that skirt of yours down. The way you reacted to that was simple; you first adjusted your skirt and left the documents for last after apologizing. Thus meaning your brain is ridden by insecurity and- even though you may not notice it- work comes after. Also the way you got to your knees; one at a time, and your facial expression shows me that you drop things regularly- Your attribute of clumsiness. Insecurity is simple; you don't like to be looked at. When I glanced over at you, you tried to hide your eyes and suddenly felt uncomfortable and noticed your skirt was creeping upwards. Finally, you may wonder how I know you're running away from something or _someone_. Your maple leaf hairpin demonstrates your love for your country- it's very dear to you. So what – or _who-_drove you out? Your nails are not done, meaning you don't like it- a tomboy. You don't care much for appearance due to you lack of make-up. A simple chap stick could do; adding to that tomboy theory. Your parents don't like your manly side and so they have gotten you engaged. Why are you insecure? Of course you do not like this man- he seems abusive. When you bent down- your skirt revealed a dark bruise- he's an alcoholic, yet for some reason you are a bit attracted to him judging by the ring on your necklace- your engagement ring. It's also a small reminder of your pa-"

"Sherlock!" Lestrade finally stopped him as Madeline's wide eyed expression was wiped out almost instantly. "H-how do you know all that?" She stuttered. "Don't stutter. It adds to your insecurity." Sherlock stood and handed the papers back to Madeline as he helped her up. She nodded slightly as she looked at her feet trying to collect everything. How did he know all that by just seeing her for five minutes?

"Excuse his rudeness. I am very sorry miss Williams." Lestrade apologized for Sherlock's actions. "N-no don't worry." Madeline replied.

"Let's go to the crime scene." The dark haired man spoke as he left the room. Madeline followed closely behind trying not to trip- high heels aren't her best friend.

"W-wait Mr. Holmes!" She called.

"Please, Sherlock." He replied.

"S-Sherlock, please wait for me."

"Hurry up. You don't seem to be injured- unless, your fiancé hit you that bad."

"Can you please not mention him?"

"Right, okay then I won't."

"Thank you."

"May I know his name?"

"Lars."

"Ah. Dutch is he now?"

"Yes. He is Dutch."

"So why does he hit you?"

"Can we please not talk about him? I don't want to."

Sherlock dropped the conversation and entered the Taxi along with Madeline. He immediately gave the address and turned to her. "Was I right?" He asked. "Pardon me?" he noticed her stuttering had disappeared long ago. "Was what I said right?" He repeated. "When you told my life story?" She looked at him. "Yes. Was I right?"

"Yes. You were. But how do you know all that?" She questioned. "I simply observe." Was his answer.

Madeline had been very observant of him as well but he was so hard to figure out- a complete puzzle. What the hell? Why was it so confusing? Either way, she somewhat fancied this. It didn't bore her and she could waste her extra time on that. Of course her mind would be invaded with his words. How could he know all that? Was he a psychic? But those aren't actually real.

Okay so for starters; he is not actually in the force but he helps them, he's extremely observant, and he loves exciting cases. Okay so far so good.

As they arrived at the crime scene, Sherlock began his five minute examination. Madeline found this actually quite marvellous. How smart could that man be? It was amazing.


	2. Chapter 2

Days after the case had been solved Madeline and Sherlock seemed to work quite well together. In a result they were assigned even more cases. Sherlock did not mind- Madeline wasn't a bother. It was actually quite nice to have her around. She was smart and clever- not like him, but she wasn't stupid either. Her company wasn't annoying- it was refreshing. Finally, she didn't talk- or think- when he was on to something.

"Madeline, do you need to stay somewhere? Because I've recently noticed you don't have a proper place to stay, am I not correct?" Sherlock spoke.

"Well, I'm staying in a small apartment for a while until I can get a proper flat."

"Hmm, I was actually thinking that, since John is on vacation, you can stay in his room until he's back and then maybe you could rent an apartment at 221 Baker Street."

"B-But. I-isn't J-John going t-to be upset?"

"Don't stutter. It's insecurity."

"R-right. Sorry, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize either."

"Oh I'm sorry."

"What did I just say?"

"I'm sorry. Oh I'm sorry. Crap!"

Sherlock chuckled slightly. "So, do you take the offer?" He questioned. Madeline looked at him for a matter of seconds. "I-I" she thought about it a bit more. "Can I tell you my answer tomorrow?" she asked.

Sherlock faced her and laughed a little bit. "It's not like I'm asking you to marry me." He chuckled. Almost immediately Madeline's face turned the darkest shade of red. "I-I...I-I know." She mumbled.

Sherlock looked at the lady before him. Her beat red face made him smile. She was quite cute, if you really wanted to know. Her hair was always split into two very low wavy ponytails and her black framed glasses hid her indigo eyes. Her freckles invaded her soft skin; she was full of them- like the starry night sky.

Sherlock smiled brighter and turned to leave. "Oh do you have any nicotine patches?" He asked turning around. "No." Madeline looked at him sceptically. "Why?" she asked.

Without an answer he walked away. He left her alone and bashful.

Walking in her own direction she began to think about Sherlock's offer. First off, it wasn't so bad at all. It was actually perfect. She needed to save money, even if it was just a short while. Walking back to her flat she thought and thought about it. Trying to make a decision she didn't find any cons yet there had to be. There were always strings attached.

In the morning she slipped into her black pencil skirt and put on her ruffle invaded shirt. With an attempt to do something different to her hair she tied it in a high bun- her bangs spared. She placed her glasses on her face and did her make up- lightly. Her lip balm was a little pinkish and she never put on foundation or blush- she really couldn't care less. Her eyelashes had been naturally curly and long so she didn't need mascara. Slight traces of eyeliner were found at the corner of her eyes in a perfect attempt at a Cleopatra style.

She slipped the black blazer over her shoulders and put on her pearl earrings. She walked to her nightstand and took her necklace and placed it in her jewellery box. It was better if she forgot about the ring. She was never going to see Lars ever again so nothing mattered. She made sure no bruises could be shown, although they had begun to fade and then slipped into her matching black four inch heels- they were a nightmare.

Slinging her purse over her shoulder she walked out the door and awaited a taxi at the bottom of the building.

"Miss Williams, Do you have an umbrella? It'll begin to pour very soon." A voice stated from behind her. She turned to see a man. He was tall- maybe a little taller or equivalent to Sherlock. He looked older than him by a few years and had some sort of brown shade of hair- it was hard to tell.

"P-pardon?" Her eyes widened. "It's going to rain; would you like to borrow my umbrella?" The man stated. "Who are you?" She mumbled. "Oh that is quite a rude question, though I'd like to discuss matters with you about Sherlock Holmes."

"Why Sherlock?"

"Oh, you're on a first name basis with him?"

"Why should it matter to you?"

"I am simply interested in the affairs of Mr. Holmes."

"How come?"

"I am simply a person of interest- his 'Arch enemy'; if you were to have his exact words."

"Can we not beat around the bush?"

"I'd like you to give me info about him. Like what he's doing and when."

"Why?"

"I am worried about him. I have tried to persuade Mr. Watson, but he declined."

"Who are you?"

"I am no one."

"Worried? Why?"

"He's dear to me."

"Information in exchange for what?"

"Money; the quantity of your choice."

"Why?"

"I have already explained my reasoning. Do you take the offer?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Seven thousand each month."

"You drive a hard bargain."

"Do you take it?"

"Four thousand, nothing more."

"Seven, and if you don't accept, I'll leave. In all honesty, you don't have anyone else."

"Fine, I accept, although I hate to admit the matter that you are right- I have no one else. I'll send you the money each month. 'Till then, goodbye darling." And with that he walked away.

Madeline stared at the man as he walked off, suddenly it began to pour. When had the sky been so dark? The man was right.


	3. Chapter 3

"What took you so long, Ms. Williams?" Sherlock asked as Madeline reached the crime scene. "You were to be here almost an hour ago." He added.

"I am sorry, Traffic caught up to me." She replied. "As well, I met a man."

"Is that so? I hope he was worth your time."

"He offered me money to spy on you. He says he's your arch enemy."

"Ah, Mycroft was the man."

"Is that his name?"

"Yes. He is my brother."

"Brother?" Madeline raised her eyebrow.

"Yes. How much did he offer you?" Sherlock questioned in return.

"The amount of my choice."

"Did you take it?"

"Yes, I thought we could use the money."

"Perfect. How much did you ask for?" He rubbed his hands together.

"Seven thousand pounds."

"Amazing. What info will you provide him?"

"I wanted to ask what you wanted to share with him."

"Where I am and what I am doing is just fine."

"Okay then that is all I shall share."

"Good." Sherlock smirked and went back to the dead woman's body.

Madeline thought about it for a while. Why would his brother want to know where he is at all times? They didn't seem to have a good relationship so maybe that was it. Mycroft was concerned over his little brother.

She then analyzed the body of the woman.

"Madeline, do you see that? Her hands were tied and it looks like she was suffocated. Oh, we got a killer. This is interesting. Are there anymore women like this?" He looked at her.

"I don't believe so. I think this is the first one."

"Okay, let's see what may be next. Lestrade, did you check under her nails? Is there anything there?" Sherlock looked up at Lestrade.

"Yes, there is blood. Though we are going to perform an autopsy soon enough."

"Okay, I'll be sure to come around. Please inform me of anything that might happen, or in reality anything in general. Just remember to text me."

Sherlock stood and began to walk out of the crime scene. Surely enough he was followed by Madeline.

"Madeline, did you decide what you were going to do?" Sherlock asked as they entered the taxi.

"Oh, yes, I did. Is it okay if I could stay at your flat for a little while?" Madeline looked at him.

"Yes of course you can. I did offer, didn't I?"

"Yes, I know. Yet I still feel like I need to ask."

Madeline waited until they both had arrived at 221B Baker Street. "So, uh…How long will I be staying in your flat?" She questioned as she fidgeted with her dress.

"Until you want to leave." Sherlock replied. "I frankly don't care." He added.

As soon as they arrived at the house, Sherlock took her up to her room and did some half-smile as he set her stuff down on the bed.

Turning towards her he nodded. "Alright then, I'll leave you to unpack." He pivoted on his left foot and filed out of the room, leaving her alone.

Madeline sat down on the bed and looked around. It was a nice room, to be honest. She noted the dreadful dark green covers of which the bed beheld; that needed to be changed. After getting up she walked around the room eyeing things she knew needed to leave and things she was fine with leaving.

Finding a couple of things she knew she liked, she smiled. Madeline can get used to this. In addition, she somewhat fancied him- Sherlock that is.

Living with him wouldn't be so bad. He wasn't really a pain. He was just very blunt, and she knew from experience how to deal with a blunt idiot. Especially when her fiance had been blunt as heck.

Sighing she changed into a nice black tight dress. She had decided to go dancing for the night and Sherlock sure wouldn't mind. After slipping into some red heels she quickly did both her hair and make up and made her way to the living room.

"Sherlock! I'm going out, so don't wait up for me." She stated as she placed on her red stud earrings.

"Are you actually going out like that?" Sherlock came from behind her. "You look like a prostitute." He added.

Almost hitting the ceiling, Madeline calmed herself. "Gosh, Sherlock. You scared the hell out of me. And thank you. At least I know I'd be a good prostitute." She caught her breath.

"I never said you were good." He smirked.

Madeline shot him a deep glare. "Well, I don't give a damn what you think. I'm still going out." She cockly shook her head.

"Okay. Careful, don't end up being a _maiden of the night_." Sherlock chuckled and picked up his violin.

"Did you seriously just call me that?" Madeline retorted before laughing. "Oh my, Sherlock. Oh my."


	4. Chapter 4

**~Author's Note~**

**Dear Readers,**

**I would very much like to apologize for my delay in updating my stories. Please do forgive me. The reason of this delay is because there has been some issues uprising within my household and I am not able to write the proceeding chapters. Yet I do not and will not forget that you will be waiting for my updates. Thus I will not be updating until further notice and until then, goodbye. (I hope to update my stories after the 21st of June for my last exam will be held on the day.) Thank you for your continued support and have a great day. Thank you for your time and consideration as well.**

**Sincerely,**

**Ms. Atomic Bomb**


	5. Chapter 5

**~Author's Note~**

**I have noticed... this story is mainly dialogue and that's not quite good :$ Forgive me for that and the late update.**

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Madeline entered the cab as she sighed. Sherlock liked to tease her a lot and she didn't like that so much. Sometimes it could be funny but sometimes it could just get annoying. Yet she liked Sherlock. He was a rather interesting man, he never bored her (Not what he said, that bored her, but rather his persona). Maybe she could learn to trust someone again. In all reality, her defences always flew sky-high when she was around men, even with Sherlock- _especially _with Sherlock. Even though she knew he would not dare hurt her she was still sceptical. Maybe she was just scarred, the many things that happened to her just made her learn that life was cruel.

"Thank you very much." Madeline smiled and paid the Taxi driver the amount of pounds she owed.

Quickly exiting the cab she walked into the club only flashing her ID then heading to the bar within it. She sat down and ordered a shot of whiskey.

"Isn't that a bit _too_ strong?" A man sat next to her.

She looked upon him as he ordered some beer and shook her head. "N-no, for me Tequila is stronger. Whiskey's okay." Madeline stated in a whisper.

"Ah...I see." The blond male nodded. He had short blond spiked hair and green eyes, for a second Madeline had thought it was Lars but she quickly noticed that he was skinnier than her Fiancé and did not possess a scar over his right eye.

It was quiet for a long while as she finished her shot then ordered another.

"Don't drink a lot, you'll get drunk." The man warned.

"Why else would I be here?" Madeline questioned and sat straight. "So what's your name?" She asked.

"Winston. And you are?" The man returned the question.

"As in Winston Churchill?" Madeline smiled.

"Yes, as in Winston Churchill." He nodded.

"Madeline, like the French Cartoon." She chuckled lightly.

"Nice to meet you Madeline." Winston nodded. His eyes sparked with fascination and he smiled in return.

Madeline nodded in acknowledgement and continued to sip at her drink.

"Where are you from, Madeline? America?" Winston asked noticing her accent.

"Nope. The peaceful and quiet Canada." She laughed.

"Ah... Are you here on Vacation or are you moving here?"

"Moving. Canada was too nice for me." She chuckled.

Another silence, this time Winston did not know how to respond but instead laughed after a bit, understanding her joke. "Want to dance?" He asked her.

Madeline looked into his green eyes for a second or two, he seemed rather kind. "Yes, of course." She nodded and stood as he led her to the Dance Floor.

Madeline had always disliked dancing but she was somewhat 'under the influence' so it wasn't really her dancing, was it? She smiled and began to dance around Winston as he danced with her as well. It seemed as if for a second or two they were the only ones in the room and all they could do was laugh.

Out of the corner of her mind, Madeline was interrupted by the sound of her phone. She sighed loudly and smiled at Winston. "I got to take this, sorry." She mumbled after seeing that it was Sherlock.

She walked to the washroom and answered the phone. "Yes Sherlock?" She asked.

"Why did it take forever for you to answer?" He hissed from the other line.

"Sorry, I didn't think it was important." She replied.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock interrogated.

"Yes why?"

"Good. There was a shooting at a club nearby, is there any chance you were in the club?"

"Oh my gosh, really? Is everyone okay?" Madeline gasped.

"Only some are injured, I thought that maybe you were there. But that is not why I called." He cut to the chase.

"Then why did you?" She mumbled.

"There's been a murder, I need you ASAP."

"Why didn't you text?"

"You never answer your texts." Sherlock retorted and hung up.

Well, that was true. Madeline never really thought texts were as important as calls. If someone took the time to call you it was because they cared, and if they texted it means they're lazy. At least that's what she believed.

She slowly walked out of the washroom and spotted Winston. How could she explain? What should she say?

"Winston-" He turned at the sound of his name to meet her "-I have to go...I'm sorry. But here's my number." She wrote her number down on one of the napkins and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, I had fun. Usually I don't dance so, thank you." She smiled and began to walk away, leaving Winston to process everything.

"Do you want a ride?" He asked.

"Don't worry, I'll take a cab." She smiled and left the club.

As she arrived at Sherlock's apartment she hurried up the stairs and opened the door to see him sitting on the couch. "Okay let's go." Madeline prompted.

"Where do you think you're going? You're 'under the influence', No criminal investigator is allowed to work like that. Plus, there is no murder. I wanted to see you get home safely. I see you've met a man. His name?" Sherlock grinned.

Madeline was still not used to his observation skills. She was always going to be impressed.

"No murder? You made me leave for no reason?" She lifted a blond eyebrow.

"I explained. The man's name?" He repeated.

"Winston. How do you know I met a man?" She narrowed her eyes. He was probably stalking her. That idiot.

"Your purse is open and your phone is still in your hand. You never put it back but you took out a pen. Why? Writing your number down for the man then threw it back inside and didn't bother closing it in the cab. You were fixated on the whole 'murder' thing I mentioned." Sherlock explained. Of course it was like that.

"Right... I'm going to bed." She sighed and walked to her room. "Don't ever lie to me again!" She called and closed her bedroom door.


End file.
